


Little Wolf

by lyriumandbiotics



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Memory Loss, Physical Harm, Physical Torture, lyrium brandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumandbiotics/pseuds/lyriumandbiotics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Details of the night Fenris got his lyrium markings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Wolf

The cellar was cold and drafty, causing Leto’s flesh to erupt into goosebumps as the breeze ghosted across his bare skin. He was naked, lying on a dais in the centre of the room, bound to the stone by thick leather straps secured across his body. It was quiet, save for the murmuring of a couple mages in the corner. They were bent over a cauldron of liquid lyrium, which was bubbling heavily.

“Are you afraid?” Danarius asked him.

Of course he was afraid, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Whatever Danarius was about to do to him would be awful, he was sure, but he didn’t have a choice. No amount of anxiety or fear would help him, Danarius wouldn't be stopped. Leto couldn’t answer the question properly, since there was a thick piece of leather stuck between his teeth. So he shook his head, and Danarius laughed.

“Your body betrays you, little wolf. You tremble like a leaf.”

One of the other slaves, a young elven girl, dipped two metal rods into the lyrium cauldron, coating the ends with the silver-blue liquid. The two mages began to chant, their words echoing off the bare walls. Leto could feel the tingle of magical energy in the air. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but Danarius said it would make him special, irreplaceable. He would be his Master’s “special pet”.

The mages’ chant grew louder as they withdrew the rods from the cauldron. Leto could see steam rising off the metal. The two mages approached the dais, singing incoherently. They lowered the rods towards Leto’s exposed skin.

“Lie still,” Danarius hissed in his ear, “you won’t like what will happen if they make a mistake.”

Leto screamed as the first drop of boiling lyrium touched his skin, his voice muffled by the gag in his mouth. The pain was indescribable, mere words would never do it justice. His skin blistered and burst as the mages trailed the lyrium over his body. The smell of his own flesh melting under the white hot touch of the metal hung thick in the air. Leto could feel the magic seeping under his skin, feel it coursing through his veins, setting every nerve in his body on fire. He screamed and screamed and screamed, until his lungs held no more air. Tears escaped his eyes and dripped down into his ears.

‘Think of something else’, he told himself, ‘anything else.’

It was no use, however. The pain was all-consuming. Soon, all coherent thoughts were gone from his mind. Pain was the only thing he knew, the only thing he had ever known.

The ritual went on all night. The mages were careful in their designs, each mirroring the other. They dragged the hot lyrium across his skin, leaving a trail of burned and puckered flesh in their wake. Leto blacked out sometime in the early hours of the morning.

Pain was the first sensation his mind registered upon waking. Every inch of his skin prickled and burned. His heart beat weakly in his chest, his breathing shallow and ragged. The room was quiet. He didn't want to open his eyes, but forced himself to. Golden sunlight streamed in through the tiny windows and illuminated the dust particles floating in the air. The only other person in the room was an elven girl in the corner, prodding a dying fire. Her back was turned, so she didn't notice he was awake.

‘What in the name of Andraste happened to me?’ he wondered.

There was a cloud hanging over his mind, blocking out his memories. He had no idea how he'd wound up lying naked in the middle of an empty cellar.

‘Think!’ He commanded himself, trying to fight through the fog in his brain.

He remembered...mages, something about lyrium, and pain. So much pain, but nothing else. Anything that came before, including his own name, was gone. He glanced down at himself, shocked to discover his entire body covered in angry looking burns. Thick red lines wove a pattern over his skin. They were everywhere; his chest, his arms, the insides of his thighs. Fear and panic began to well up inside of him.

How did he get there? What kind of magic could have done this to him? He had no idea what he'd done to deserve such treatment, no idea how to get away.

‘Should I try to run? Should I find my family?’

Did he even have a family? He thought he did, but couldn't be sure. It was so frustrating not being able to remember. The answer was there, so close, but he couldn't navigate through the fog. Perhaps his family were the ones that did this to him? Were they trying to kill him or merely torture him? Maker, was he a criminal?

‘How can I run if I don't know where to go? If I don't even know who I am, or who did this to me?’

Suddenly, fear seized him, crushing him under its weight. What would happen to him now? He didn't know if he had a safe place to hide, or who was friend or foe. What could he do now that everything had been taken from him? His breath quickened to ragged gasps as he realized he was trapped, at the mercy who whoever had placed him here. His heart felt as if it were going to burst out of his chest.

The elf girl must have heard him, because she finally turned around to face him. She registered the panic on his face and rushed over to him. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered, “it’s over. It’s done. It’s okay.”

‘Okay?’

Nothing about the situation was okay. He tried to sit up, but his muscles ached and trembled from the effort. The movement caused some of the burns to break open and bleed. He fell back with a cry of pain.

“Don’t try to move,” the girl said, “your body’s been through a lot of trauma.”

‘That’s putting it lightly.’

He tried to speak, to ask who had done this to him. But he found himself unable to form words. His throat felt dry as a desert, and his voice came out as a garbled moan. The girl brushed some hair off his forehead and pressed a cold, wet cloth against his skin. The water didn’t actually sizzle when it touched him, though it felt like it should have. He shivered as it dripped down over his temples.

“It’s okay now,” the girl cooed in his ear, “it’s over.” Her voice soothed him a little, and he allowed his eyes to close. She continued to comfort him with her words, stroking his sweat slicked hair, until his breathing eased and his heart rate slowed.

“You have a fever,” the girl said after a while, “not surprising.”

“Water?” His request was barely audible, the only word he was able to choke out.

“Of course.”

The girl stumbled around and produced a flask, which she held up to his mouth. Barely a drop of water passed his lips before he was coughing and sputtering. It felt as if he’d swallowed a thousand shards of glass. The servant girl waited patiently until his coughs subsided and tried again. This time he was able to swallow a little bit, though his throat protested heavily. The water helped to ease the pain in his throat, and after he’d drank a little more, the girl began dabbing his face with the washcloth. “Master Danarius told me to summon him when you woke,” the girl told him, “but I’ll wait a while. I think you deserve a rest.”

A rest from what? Was there more to come? He didn’t think he could endure any more of it, though he wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was. “No,” he moaned, “no more. I can’t-”

The door to the cellar opened with a bang. A large and imposing man strode towards him, brightly coloured robes swishing as he walked. Somehow, he knew this man was the one responsible for his pain. The girl let out a gasp and jumped up. “Master Danarius!”

“Didn’t I tell you to summon me as soon as he was conscious?”

“He just woke, Master,” she lied.

The man named Danarius looked down at him lying on the stone slab and smirked. For some reason, the look made his skin crawl. He was suddenly very aware of his nakedness, and wanted to curl into a ball to hide himself.

“You live!” Danarius exclaimed. “Good. I knew you would. You are special, very strong indeed. How do you feel?”

“I don’t think he can speak, Master,” the girl said quietly, “I think he’s in shock.”

Danarius huffed out a breath, “I see. Well, in any case, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know your mother and sister both live. They are free to go.”

Mother? Sister? So he did have family! But where were they going? Why wasn’t he going with them? Danarius grinned wider at the confusion and fear on his face.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

He refused to answer. The less this man knew about his mental state, the better it would be.

Danarius chuckled, “how wonderful for me. A blank slate. I get to start fresh with you,make you into what I want.” Danarius leaned down and stroked the side of his face with surprisingly soft fingers.

“Fenris,” Danarius whispered, “my little wolf.”

 


End file.
